


Our Greatest Dread Has Always Been The Knowledge Of Our Mortality

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (bad) dirty talk, Not Epilogues Compliant, Slut Shaming, obama (mentioned) - Freeform, president kink???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26222836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dave and Karkat have sex in a fake presidential office rented from a movie studio.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29
Collections: Anonymous





	Our Greatest Dread Has Always Been The Knowledge Of Our Mortality

**Author's Note:**

> No beta lol

You never feel right in a suit. You prefer to drown yourself in sweaters and hoodies, keep people from fully perceiving your true (hideous) form. In a properly tailored suit, you look like an overgrown wriggler dressed up for picture day. You even had to keep Dave from slicking your hair back, for some reason.

You have no fucking idea how this is supposed to be hot.

You hear a knock on the fake door across from you. "Come in," You yell, voice cracking slightly from nerves.

Dave walks onto the set in a suit of his own, a much better compliment to his tall and slender frame. He has a cup of coffee and a stack of papers. "Morning, mister president! I brought you your morning cup, and also some papers to review for today."

"Oh, uh, thanks." He sets the papers down on your fake desk and you immediately begin to shuffle them to do something with your hands. You realize he actually printed your lines. Onto the papers.

"Mr. Strider, I actually have been meaning to have a word. With you." You dutifully read aloud, not wanting to mess this up. "Please sit down."

Dave immediately scrambles into the chair across from you and leans eagerly forward. "Of course, Mr. Vantas, sir! I'm always happy to help out our country in any way that I can. That's why I became a secretary in the first place! Please go right ahead and explain what I need to do in order to satisfy the president of the planet."

You continue to read, not making eye contact. "I want YOU...to suck my Johnson." You pause. "Dave, what the fuck is a Johnson?"

"It's what guys call their dicks sometimes, it's not important, keep reading." Your boyfriend has his fingers steepled, and he's looking at you with a self satisfied smirk.

"I don't _have_ a Human dick, moron." You scratch the cuff of your shirt. "You didn't even try to make this scenario even slightly applicable to Trolls."

"To be fair, you guys didn't really have presidents." Dave leans back in his chair. You notice his carefully put together "look" is a bit messy at the moment. His hair is slowly coming undone, and his tie is a little more uneven than normal.

You sigh, and continue to read your script. "Mr. Strider, I'm afraid it is of utmost importance to the security of the planet for you to run your lips all over my enormous hot dog, and drink down whatever cough syrup erupts from my loins."

You finish, and look up at Dave, who has a smile plastered all over his stupid shitty grorgeous face. It makes his nose wrinkle, and gives him weird divots just to the side of his mouth.

He keeps staring at you, until you push away from your desk. You do that thing, you know, from the gif? The pointing thing? And Dave immediately laugh-scrambles over to your chair, where he sits at your feet. Just under your desk.

"Well, have at it," you say, unbuckling your pants. Dave gives another soft chuckle rubbing his hands up your thighs. You absently ruffle a hand through his hair and he sighs against your leg.

"Is this ok? Like, is it doing anything for you?" He asks you softly, nuzzling against your bulge. You lean back, observing him from afar.

"Not really. I mean, I'm about to get blown by the wastechute that is your mouth, but also I don't really understand what I'm supposed to be doing here." Dave licks a stripe up your bulge and you hum. "Like, all I really know is Obama, and that's kind of a fucked up thing to roleplay, Dave."

Dave pauses, grimacing up at you. "Ew, no. I don't want to fuck Obama. Obama's the dad I never had, weirdo. I want to be fucked by you, but specifically the you who's also president."

"Yeah, but why??" You groan, leaning against the arm of your chair. "Dude, why the fuck do you want to fuck a president so bad? And don't give me that 'it's not about the position, it's about you' cockfuck! If it was about _me_ there wouldn't be so much pressure for me to read from a script and act all presidential or whatever the fuck that means."

Your bulge is starting to feel cold, and when you look down Dave is giving you his best rendition of the sad face emoji. He continues to rub the outside of your thighs, but in a less sexy way and in a more calming way. You close your eyes and breath in.

"We don't have to keep going. I was just going to have you riff whatever you want while you fuck my mouth, like I wasn't going to have you act anything after that." Dave's voice is quiet and soothing. "I thought the script thing was funny, but in retrospect I can see why that may have been a bad idea. I really won't mind if you need to stop, we can just go home."

You resume stroking his hair while you think about what you want to do. "I am fine with you blowing me. I want to actually talk to you though, and you can't get pissy if I don't sound like Obama."

Dave makes a displeased noise. "What exactly do you think Obama sounds like? Like, I know you have heard Obama, why the fuck do you think he'd say 'drink whatever cough syrup erupts from my loins.' That was just me writing things to be a dick; like keep up asshole, Jesus…"

You press slightly on Dave's head, and his mumbling immediately ceases as he begins mouthing at your bulge again. He pulls down your underpants, and you let out a high groan at the electrifying pulse that shoots through you.

"So if you don't want to fuck Obama…" you think about what the hell someone could get out of fucking the president. "What, do you want power? Protection? Forced to sit on your knees under a desk and take a gaperfull of bulge all day?"

"Hmmm. No? Yes?" Dave leans in to suck almost violently on your tip, jolting you, before pulling back to continue. "I don't like being in charge of things. You look hot when you're in charge of things, and I think you should be in charge of things in general. World hunger? Never heard of it. Cancer? You'd cure it. My insatiable lust for the fat ass currently facing away from me? Hey, I can't have it all. Also, you look good in a suit."

You bark out a laugh. "I do NOT look good in a suit! What the fuck are you talking about!"

You feel him laugh lightly against your bulge, slipping his fingers further into your pants now to find your bone nook. "You look incredibly sexy in a suit. Really you look super fucked up, but that's better because I just want to get it off you faster. See? You look good." You moan as he slips a finger into you. "You look good in anything, really. But you look best in nothing."

"You look best shirtless and eating popcorn on our couch," you gasp, and he laughs again (except, you were completely serious about that). "I'm- I'm going to fucking come," you stutter.

Dave quickly grabs the bucket from under your desk, pushing it under you. He bends down at an extremely awkward angle to position your hips above the bucket, while also sucking you off, and you really really would rather he just use his fingers instead of trying to break his back and get on _Sex Sent Me to the ER_.

You gasp as you come, your fluid making a soft splashing noise into the bucket below.

Dave pulls away, leaving you to gasp for breath. You heave as he leans against your desk, standing up somehow. After a few moments you haul yourself upright, fitting your crotch back into your pants. "What now?"

Dave stares at you, his face back to a blank piece of paper with huge fucking eyebrows.

"What now, asshole? You didn't finish, right? What're we fucking doing?"

His eyebrows raise. "What do you want to do to me, mister president?"

"Sit on my lap?" You offer, and he immediately moves to straddle you. In this position he's embarrassingly tall compared to you. You move to unbuckle his belt.

"It's fine that you want to get me off, but JSYK I wanted to blow a president and we already did that. So I'm probably good." You move to his zipper. "You should have grinded against my face a bit more. You know, really take charge of me. I got off pretty easy, TBH."

"You want me in charge," you state, hands pulling down his boxers with his slacks. He makes a satisfied hum when he feels your hands on his bare thighs.

"Yeah, tell me what to do. I'll give you whatever I got, babe, promise. Don't need to focus on me."

"I'm going to focus on you whether fucking you like it or not." You pause. "...If that's ok."

He laughs at you, but spreads his legs to give you better access. You begin rubbing slick onto his bulge. "Laugh at me all you want, but I can be pretty fucking mean. I can even be an asshole, if you want."

"Yeah, talk dirty to me, Babe." He whines.

"You're a filthy desk slut who wants my bulge all day."

"Facts. Wait, what's a desk slut?"

"What do you mean, what's a desk slut?"

He raises an eyebrow, his head cocked. "Like am I a slut for desks? Am I a desk fucker? Vantas. Are you calling me a desk fucker?"

"I'm saying you're a slut who stays under my desk to suck me off. Why the fuck would you fuck desks. _How_ would you fuck desks."

"You use the corner."

"What???"

Dave continues to pant and move his hips. "Yeah."

"How do you know that. What the shit."

"I mean, it just makes sense. When you think about it."

"You think about fucking desks??" 

"Well, no. Maybe? Huh, I never thought of that. Maybe I _am_ a desk fucker."

"This is so stupid. Lean back."

Dave whispers a _yes sir_ , before leaning back against your desk. You start pumping your fingers in and out of him, making sure to keep rubbing his bulge with slick. He groans.

"You're such a stupid fuck. You want me to be authentic but then you want to write me lines to read out loud." You add a third finger, and he whines, furiously rocking his hips. "Why does it even matter? All that conflict and all that roleplay and it all comes back to you, on my lap, getting fucked. Fucking incredible."

You slowly unbutton his shirt, rubbing his chest. "You're lucky you make me so wet."

Dave gasps and clenches against your fingers. You keep stroking him until his breathing mellows, and he sounds less like he just ran a marathon.

"So," he sighs. "That was fun."

You shrug. "I still don't really get what the fuck is happening. But yeah, I mean, I had fun at the end there."

"Well we have this place for two more hours, JSYK." Dave wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You stand up, effectively dropping your boyfriend and his non-existent ass onto the floor. "I'm taking a shower."

"Nooooooooo, babe!" Dave dramatically begins scooting himself after you, still lying on the floor. "What is love, Kat? Baby! Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me! No more!"

He giggles when you start dragging out him by the arms. "Sweet, a free ride."

"You can fucking _fly_."


End file.
